A Small Piece of Eccentricity
by AlienaCooper
Summary: Jack Sparrow... What was he like as a child? Who were his friends? Who were his enemies? How did he grow up? How did he become a pirate? We all know he's not normal... but how did he get that way? Just my imagination having fun... hope you enjoy
1. The Beginning

Prologue

The wind whistled past his ears, pushing his night black hair away from his clean shaven, ruggedly handsome face. His dark, mysterious and dangerous eyes were trained on the horizon, on the look out for enemy ships or land on which to make his fortune or simply just to have a good time.

On his face was a self satisfied smirk of a man who felt he knew the world very well. His eyes filled with the fire of defiance as his hands held on tightly to the spokes of the enormous ship's wheel.

For a moment he broke his attention away from the sea's surface and surveyed his ship from his great height, watching his loyal crew work below him, tirelessly toiling to keep the ship going, repairing the slightest damage, ensuring she was the best she could be.

Many of his men were scared from the many battles they had fought and won, and the very few they had lost. Each and every man who served him was willing to die for him. Their own captain. Captain Ja-

"JOHN SMITH!" yelled a stern voice, "come down from that tree at once! Stop it with your tomfoolery and daydreams. There is work to be done."

"I am not _John Smith_," said the ten year old boy indignantly, "I'm Jack Sparrow."

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes glinting with mischievousness and grinned impishly and the stout woman standing in the doorway of the house.

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

He jumped from the branches with the agility of a cat, his long black hair falling gently into his face as he looked up towards her again.

"The most Famous pirate captain in the Caribbean- NO!" he corrected himself, standing slowly, "in all the seven seas."

His aunt rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, watching him closely as he almost stalked towards her.

"The most feared. The most notorious. My crew will be the most loyal. I'll be strong! I'll be fierce! I'll be-" He tripped over a stone in his path to his aunt and fell flat on his face.

"Lucky to reach fifteen," his aunt finished for him, chuckling. She walked over to help the poor boy up.

"The name's _Jack_," insisted the young Jack Sparrow, shaking his aunt off him, "And you'll see. Soon everyone will know of Captain Jack Sparrow."


	2. A Deal

A Deal

Thirteen year old Jack hauled himself onto the roof tops. From there- he could see the port clearly. He could see the taverns, the docking, the people and the carts. He could see everything- but he was looking for one individual.

A little girl, about three years younger than him, but with more guts than anyone else he _knew_. Even Billy Turner. Cara Lightstone was not an easy one to pick out. She could blend in where she willed, and stand out at the same time. It depended on how she was feeling.

"Cara!" he called across the roof tops, hoping she had gotten his message, "CARA!"

"Down here- moron," came her happy little voice from the other side of the house he was climbing.

He frowned as he looked down her. "What are yooooo-" the word was cut off as his foot slipped on a tile and he came slipping to earth. His fingers scrabbled for a hold- of anything. His dreadlocks were all over the place.

Just before he shot over the edge of the house- he managed to grab hold of the piping. His body was wrenched forwards by the momentum of his fall, but he held on securely. "hmmm… how to get down…" he mumbled to himself.

Beneath him Cara was laughing hysterically. "Oh Jack," she said through her giggles, "how do you _always_ manage to do that?!"

"With skill! And lots of luck!" he called down to Cara, then muttered to himself, "the kind I _don't_ need…"

Cara shook her head. She may have been three years younger. But she was the wiser more mature one of their group of five. Though she was not the only girl.

As his fingers clung on to the gutter for dear life, there was a sort of crunching, dragging sound to be heard. Jack's eyes snapped towards the right side of the house. His black pupils dilated till all of his deep brown eyes were covered! The gutter was breaking away from the house.

Below him Cara was swallowing hard, backing away slightly so he wouldn't land on her. She still muttered curses on her friends behalf as Jack repeated, "bugga," over and over again.

His eyes searched all over for something else to grab onto to. When an idea struck him- swing himself back onto the roof! It was so simple, and for a lad who basically grew up on a ship- should be relatively easy.

He started swinging his agile body back and forth to gain momentum. He was concentrating so much he didn't hear the second crunch. Nor felt the further dragging of the piping.

"Not going to work, Smith!" called up Cara, eyeing the slowly collapsing gutter.

"It's Sparrow!" snapped Jack hotly, thinking furiously what a little girl would know or even understand.

"Smith or Sparra', you're the same idiot," she replied, just as heatedly, "it's not gonna work."

"Yes it-" the gutter gave way. It fell towards Earth with a jolt, sending Jack sliding to the other end, giving him friction burns on his fingers. He hit his hands with such a force at the other end that his body swung and he let go for the pain in his hands. He crashed to the floor and landed in a heap.

Groaning he disentangled himself, and just lay on the floor, moaning.

Cara rushed over, and dropped to her knees beside him. "You ok, Jack!?" she asked.

"Never better…" he said sarcastically.

"He's fine," said a familiar, nasal, whining voice. That they all knew a loathed.

"Go away Beckett," snapped Cara, standing up. She was the same height as the sandy haired, just turned teenager. But she looked bigger.

Didn't mean he was any less the bully he was. Though he sucked up to the teachers in school.

He pushed Cara distastefully out of his way with a gloved hand, wringing the hand as though it was dirty.

Cara stumbled a bit as Jack jumped to hit feet, looking thoroughly hurt on Cara's behalf. He pushed his class mate's shoulder crossly.

"Watch your self, lordling," he said coldly.

Beckett brushed his shoulders distastefully, his eyes were cold as he watched Jack's face.

"Why should _I _watch myself, Smith," he asked, his voice squeaking slightly, "what would i have to fear from a…" he looked Jack up and down, his face was of utter disgust, "common whore's son."

Cara pushed herself forewords- angry that the snivelling little wrench had insulted Jack so. Though she had never met Ms Smith, she knew from Jack's uncle that she was by no means a woman of that sort.

Jack put out his arm and pushed her aside.

"What would you have to fear from a common whore's son?" he asked, stalking towards Beckett, his words weighed, his steps calculated, his glare and smirk were of perfect evil.

Beckett back away. Beads of sweat dripped down his fat face. He tried to push them away with his richly embodied sleeve. Only for them to be replaced.

John Smith was an intimidating thirteen year old. Surprisingly tall for his age. Muscular, strong, agile, a punch to be reckoned with and a mouth full of curses and insults that would make a sailor blush.

Beckett was right to be worried about him.

"Well now… let's weigh up this accusation…" in a flash Jack had a dagger pressed against Beckett's throat, and his back against the wall.

The fat boy's breathing became more and more rapid and uneven. His sweating increased, and his pupils dilated.

Cara watched on with interest. She knew of Jack's limits and what he was willing to do. But Beckett didn't. Which made it all the more interesting.

"Let's see how you should fear the son of a whore," he whispered, almost seductively into his enemies ear.

He pressed the warmed steel against the fat of the other boys neck.

"Please…" whimpered Beckett, "spare my life! I'll give you anything!"

Jack raised an eye brow. "Who says you have anything I want."

Cara wanted to double over in stitches. Beckett was practically pissing himself! She could see the concentration on his face trying to keep his bowls in order.

"Anything, Smith!" Beckett wailed, "ANYTHING!"

Jack stared at the fat boy in wander. Was he truly so scared of a thirteen year old armed with only a knife? He truly was a pampered son of a merchant. Acting like lord of the port, like he knew everything. When in fact, he truly was the most ignorant one of them there.

"Anything?" stated Jack, his voice going up in a question at the end, "when ever I want it?"

"Yes yes!" squealed Beckett, his face bordering on purple.

Cara frowned at Jack's face. She knew that look. It was the same look he got when he had a brilliant way to steal apple from mrs Hatter, his next door neighbour. He was up to something. She could see it.

Jack dropped him and Beckett landed on a heap on the floor. Jack pushed his enemy over and leaned over him. "Then it's a deal," he said, haughtily, "I don't knife you, and when I call on you to give me what I want… you give it to me…"

"Yes yes yes yes…" agreed Beckett, scrambling to his feet, his face white in what Jack translated to be fear, "of coarse of coarse of coarse…"

Cara studied Beckett's face. She saw rage and a thirst for vengeance. The enemy boy knew he had been humiliated, and he wasn't going to drop it in a hurry.

"Get outta here," snapped Cara suddenly, stepping up them both, pushing Beckett away, "go on- move it. Before I kill you instead."

A sneer formed on his face. But it stopped half way as he noted the dagger she was fingering at her belt. The dagger she was never any where without. What was worse that on the blade side there was a slight patch of blood stained. He swallowed hard and backed away from the pair, then stumbled into a run.

Commoners… commoners like them always scared him. Because he knew very well they were, for the most part, stronger in body and often in mind that him. For the time being anyway.

Pampered, proud, vengeful, ignorant and weak he was. He was not stupid. He knew that soon, though how soon was still a mystery, but soon he'd e able to pay this John Smith back… and in such away that Beckett would be able to manage.

"John Smith," snapped Cara as she rounded on him, when Jack opened to mouth to argue with him, she waved it away saying, "John Smith Jack Sparra'- yer the same idiot. But really… Jack… you're just…"

"Charming amazing, witty-"

"No…"

"Cunning, sly, clever-"

"No way… you're…"

"Loveab-"

"Shut up," she snapped, "your impossible! Were you really going to knife that swine?"

Jack shook his head demurely, sheathing his dagger again. "Nah… he's not worth the time, effort or hassle. I just wanted to play with him."

"You're heartless."

"I'm a pirate," he grinned, grabbing her hand pulling her close to he could look straight into her face, "the most notorious-"

"Not yet your not," she said, dissuasively, pulling her fist out of his grip, flouncing away as only a ten year old can, "at the moment- you're just John Smith. The kid who likes to dream."

"Dreams are good."

"They don't earn you anything," mumbled Cara, remembering what her mother had said to her earlier that day.

Jack frowned. He had never been a very tactful person- but he was sensitive to what a person was feeling.

He caught up with her, and put his arm around her gently. He didn't say anything. Neither did she. He knew when to talk, and when to just keep his trap shut.

With her at least anyway.


	3. Growing Up The Hard Way

Prologue

Growing Up The Hard Way

Over a year later, when Cara was almost thirteen, and Bill was back from travelling with his father, Jack was walking into a tavern. He looked a lot older than the fifteen year old boy that he was. He was immediately surrounded by three or four bar maid come prostitutes in moments.

The first time that had happened, he had been scared out of his wits. He hadn't known what to do. After that- he was a natural at shaking them off. His oddly placed charm could control all females around him. From what he could tell anyway. He wasn't about to try it on the upper class ladies any time soon.

And Cara was an exception. Simply because she was rather young, and knew him just a little too well.

After bestowing a gentle kiss on the hand on one of the maids hands, who giggled and almost ran away from him, a blush blooming under the powder of her cheeks, he cast his keen eyes around for Cara and Bill.

Instead of either of them, a body smashed into him. From the side. Not enough to even make him stumble. But enough to make him step side ways. He gave the stranger a hard look, as they jumped up, brushing themselves off with absolutely no dignity.

"Sorry, mate," grinned the grubby boy, about the same height as Jack himself, probably a little older too, "that little-" he glared at a girl who was smirking at him, a hand on her hip, dressed in canvas jeans and a loose top. "Well… yeah…" the boy trailed off.

Jack's eyes met hers. She carried on smirking, then winked at him walking off. To his utter horror, warmth spread across his cheeks. That was over come very quickly, as he memorised her face and how she walked away. It seemed so familiar. He just didn't know why.

He turned his attention to the other boy.

"I'm Hector Barbossa," he said, putting out his hand, "but call me Barbossa- I hate my first name." He made a face.

"Jack Sparrow," grinned Jack happily, taking the grimy hand, and shaking it, "what bring you to-"

He was cut off by a another familiar voice cutting through the chatter of the tavern.

"MOTHER!" screamed Cara, "WILL YOU JUST LET ME BE!"

A high pitched, scathing, cutting voice replied easily, loud, but not as frustrated. "No, child- because this is what you are. This is what you will be trained to-"

"Fuck off," she snapped, though swearing was not uncommon in that area, heard from a twelve year olds mouth was still very surprising. "I will not. I won't be like that. Sarah isn't. And neither will I."

Jack and Barbossa looked at each other when Cara's yell came, and without saying a word, pushed their way through the people to where Cara and her mother were arguing. There were several spectators already. Most were expecting a cat fight of some kind. Jack wouldn't let that happen.

"Sarah got killed because of it, you stupid girl," snarled her mother.

"She died with dignity and honour," Cara retorted.

Jack stared at what the younger girl was wearing. A dress. Down to about her knees. It was clean, and looked very nice on her. But at the same time incredibly out of place.

That was Cara. She didn't wear dresses. She just didn't…

"She died because she wasn't clever," hissed the mother.

"I don't care!" yelled Cara, "I'd rather die than be like you!"

"THEN DIE, BITCH," her mother screamed. She slapped her daughter with so much force that who ever was listening actually winced.

Cara didn't move. She just met her mother's steady gaze till the older woman walked away.

It was then Jack noticed the same girl who had attacked Barbossa. She looked as though she wanted to step foreword to help Cara. She did take a step- but then took it back. Her face clouded over. Then she turned away. A few moments later the tavern door slammed shut. She had left. Leaving a mystery in Jack's hands.

He came to meet Cara, Barbossa by his side. The other boy's face filled with shock and worry.

"Cara?" started Jack, as Cara sat by the bar, the bar tender, trying to comfort her.

The Bar tender glared at Jack then Barbossa as though the argument was their fault. He went on his way, not saying a word to either of them.

"Hey Jack," she said without looking up, "and what are you doing with that scoundrel."

"Barbossa?" began Jack, "I found him-"

"Actually, I was talking to Barbossa," she said cheekily, looking up at them, smiling slightly. Already her rebellious sparkle was back in those fathom less eyes.

"You- know-" stammered Jack.

Cara laughed. "Yeah," she smiled at him, then winked at Barbossa. "I met him when he landed here a week ago. Just gotten into an argument with who looked like his girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend!" snapped Barbossa, crossly, looking ready to go and sulk, "she just was…" he trailed off not knowing what to say.

Jack and Cara looked at each other and smothered a giggle.

"C'mon Cara," grinned Jack, putting out a hand for her to take, "we're gonna have some fun. Where's Bill?"

"He's by the docks- he always is."

"Still?!" he groaned, "he just came back from sea! He wants to go back!"

Cara unintentionally ignored Jacks hand. "Once you're been," she sighed, "you never want to come back." There was something glinting dangerously in her words. They scared Jack for a moment. He tried not to let it show.

"You and your deepness thingy," he rolled his eyes, he grabbed her hand, "we'll get him back into the swing of the land. You coming Barbossa?"

The other boy's head snapped up suddenly. "Yeah sure," he grinned, "Cara talks about Bill a lot."

Jack glanced at Cara.

"What?" she shrugged, "I missed him! And I see you everyday." She snatched her hand out of Jacks grip, and pushed through the people standing in front of her, laughing. "Bet I'll get there before you!" she laughed. A few seconds later, the door slammed again, and the men standing near the door were laughing at what Cara had plainly said to them as she laughed.

Jack started worrying about his young friend. He covered it up, by winding through the people, he couldn't do it as nimbly as Cara could, and heading towards the door. Barbossa wasn't far behind him. But he was much clumsier that lithe, slim Jack.

The street outside was cool. The sound in the tavern seemed deafening compared to the quiet of the world outside. A breeze blew through the seaside town, bringing the tangy scent of salt with it.

All the streets pointed directly towards the sea, he could see Cara's silhouette standing by it already. Her hair tossed about in the breeze. A taller boy stood with her. His hands shoved into his pockets. It looked as though it was uncomfortable between them. In reality, that was how they were always with each other- and the atmosphere between them was always relaxed.

Chuckling to himself, Jack and Barbossa ran towards the pair, the wind whipping back their hair away from their faces.

Jack stopped just short of Bill, and Barbossa almost slammed straight into Cara. She luckily side stepped him, so he cannon balled into the sand by himself instead. She laughed, sitting on the edge of the barrier between the shore and the city. Bill and Jack greeted each other with an awkward hand shake at first then, a tight brothers hug as it should have been.

Cara looked up at them, her expression unreadable.

"Where's Lucy and David when you need 'em," she sighed, thinking of the other two in their group of friends.

"In bed, asleep," said Bill, with his arm round Jack shoulders, Jack doing the same to him, "like we should be. Who's the clutz?" he added.

Barbossa sprung up, brushing the sand off him, messing up his dark hair, getting as much sand out of it as he could. In the cold light on the moon, he looked like he was going grey early.

"Barbossa," he grinned, putting his hand out to take Bill's, "Hector Barbossa."

Bill laughed as he bent down to take Barbossa's hand. "I'll call ya Barbossa if that's all right with you."

Barbossa grinned in reply. "Exactly."

Jack and Bill looked at Cara, and sat on each side of her. Barbossa frowned and sat next to Jack, still trying to get sand off his clothes.

"Don't worry," said Bill comfortingly, his arm around her shoulder now, as her head lolled onto his shoulder. "You and your mum'll be ok again."

"Yeah… I know… I don't want to be… I don't want to be a prostitute… and that's what'll happen if we make up again."

"Yeah- but you can't be one till you've…" Bill went bright red.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Till you've flowered," using his aunt's word for it when she had been talking to his cousin Mary, "the sign of becoming a woman."

"Yeah," Bill's blush still very evident, "that… so she can't make you do anything."

It was Cara's turn to blush. She turned away from them, looking at the sand between her toes.

"Oh shit…" muttered Jack, knowing what it meant instantly, Barbossa's eyes went round and sympathetic. Bill lost his blush and went white instead, shaking with anger.

"Yeah," whispered Cara, "shit…"

"We won't let you," said Bill firmly, "I promise. I'll marry you if I have to."

Cara chuckled. "You're not yet sixteen. I'm almost thirteen- I'd like to see that working."

Jack frowned. "I thought you were already thirteen…"

Cara rolled her eyes and slapped his head. "That's because you don't pay attention. I have about three weeks till I'm thirteen. That's my momma's pushing me."

"Oh…" he muttered under his breath about being a boy and her not expecting him to be able to keep up.

She hugged him, then let go and jumped off the side, walking towards where the sea touched the sand.

Her eyes fixed on the horizon, her arms loosely by her side. The boys didn't dare follow her. There was something foreboding about her aura just then.

She turned to face them. "When you leave to become a pirate," she said, addressing all of them, like she knew something they didn't, "take me with you. I'll die if I stay here. Just take me with you."

"Of coarse," said Bill.

"Yeah," agreed Jack.

Barbossa just looked surprised and nodded. He seemed to wander at what she knew that they didn't. Bill and Jack were used to it by then- they didn't question.

"Good," she said. She turned and sat on the waters edge, her booted feet getting dampened by the salt water.

Jack moved to sit with her. Then changed his mind. She needed to be alone just then.

Instead he pushed himself to standing, and left the side to go back to the tavern. A few moments later Barbossa and Bill joined him.

Jack looked sideways and grinned at Barbossa who had just tripped up again, muttering darkly again. "You know what Barbossa," he declared, "I can see this as the beginning of a beautiful new friendship."

Barbossa just looked confused.

Bill laughed and slug his arm round the new boys shoulders. "Don't worry, mate," he assured Barbossa, "you'll get used to him- we all do."


End file.
